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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309449">To The Stars That Don’t Listen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavensCrack/pseuds/HeavensCrack'>HeavensCrack</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, F/M, Geralt isn’t admitting shit though, Hurt No Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Unrequited Love, also spoiler: this isn’t very nice to Yennefer, call this bard a tree because he PINES, everyone’s favourite mountain!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:27:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavensCrack/pseuds/HeavensCrack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was wonderful, until Yennefer entered their lives. </p><p>Jaskier realizes he isn’t Geralt’s most worthy travel companion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bounce A Coin Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To The Stars That Don’t Listen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to be a joke and then it turned sad, so here we go! </p><p>Inspired by The Bee Movie (Geralt is Vanessa, Jaskier is Ken, and Yennefer is that bee that keeps fucking up the metaphorical yoghurt night. It works.) For the record, there are no bees in this.</p><p>I’d also like to say I don’t hate Yen, it just works here for Jaskier to be very bitter about her. </p><p>Dearest Bungo, you will never read this but thanks for encouraging my bullshit the second I mentioned the bee.<br/>Huge thank you to Chunk for reading over this for me!</p><p>Written for the Bounce a Coin bingo, prompt fill Hurt No Comfort!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were wonderful. Life was absolutely, spectacularly, wonderful. It was all one could wish for, truly. Jaskier had the life he had only dreamed of as a child- he was successful, he was free to thrive on his passions, he had made a name for himself doing what he loved and <i> who </i> he loved. </p><p>Jaskier had always fallen in love too fast. It didn’t take much to draw him in, sometimes it was a smile, the kindness in an eye, a featherlight brush against his skin. A laugh, that when he heard, he wanted to be the reason he heard it again. It didn’t take much to fall in love. When he met someone, he would hand them his whole heart, for a night. In the morning they would always hand it back and be on their way, leaving his bed (when of course, he wasn’t chased out before morn) and his heart empty. Sometimes, they refused his heart, leaving him holding it close and he laughed off the rejection, knowing they did not want this love. Nobody wanted it, not for long, anyways. Rarely, his heart had been stolen, and only once, it had never been given back.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t expect this to last. He had offered his heart, and a gruff Witcher stuffed it in his saddlebag. From the moment he had seen the Witcher in Posada, he knew the white-haired warrior would flip his world. He just hadn’t known at the time that the man would be one to <i> become </i> his world. Geralt was… Geralt. He was rough, grumpier than an old wolf, but above all, he was <i> kind. </i> Geralt of Rivia, the onion man, who had layers and layers that Jaskier had spent years peeling. Heroics and heartbreak, Jaskier had said when they had met, and how right he had been. </p><p>Geralt was a hero, albeit an unknowing one. No matter what, Geralt had always tried to do the right thing. Jaskier had seen many battles, valiant fights against the monsters that terrorized the Continent. He worked his ass off to make the world a safer place, an unappreciated task that Jaskier was determined to <i> make </i> appreciated. But Geralt was a hero in quieter ways- the way he would refuse full payment if it looked as though the town needed the coin more, the gentle way he spoke to victims of attacks, and in smaller ways too. Perhaps the most heroic, how in a world that hated him, Geralt was <i> kind.</i> Jaskier fell more and more in love with him every time he saw the fondness in Geralt’s eyes as he wordlessly passed his cloak on cold nights, or offering a helping hand when he stumbled, little things that made Jaskier’s heart throb.  </p><p>And yet… the heartbreak. The heart Jaskier had so lovingly presented, Geralt had protected for years. Though Geralt didn’t know. To him, they were- well, he’d never said the words out loud. But Jaskier knew they were friends. Geralt, for all his strengths, did not know how to fucking admit his feelings. But, it was okay, because actions spoke louder than words, and every action, the subtle finger tapping during his songs, the way he’d spring up if he thought Jaskier was in danger, the way he almost leaned into Jaskier’s touch, the fond smiles he’d send, every gesture was a sign of their bond. </p><p>Jaskier’s favourite time of the day was the early night. No matter how the day had gone, the night was theirs. And without fail after every sunset, Geralt and Jaskier would sit outside and watch the stars. When they had gone back into civilization, after they had eaten their fill and finished Jaskier’s set, they would go outside with the excuse to check on Roach. When they were on the Path, all they had to do was look up. </p><p>Some nights they would argue over the constellations (“That doesn’t even <i> look </i> like a kikimora, Geralt, are you blind? That’s the Bride, you can see her arm extending to the other set of stars there, her Hunter. Legend has it-”… “I’ve been looking at these stars longer than you’ve been alive, whatever romantic bullshit you’ve been taught is wrong.”) </p><p>Other nights, they would just rest their heads together and stare in silence. It was peaceful, their chance to unwind after a long day of travel and just appreciate the beauty of the world. Jaskier found himself staring at Geralt more often than not, his hair a faint silver in the moonlight, eyes reflecting the night sky. He looked beautiful, ethereal, <i> content. </i> Jaskier wouldn’t trade these moments for the world. Here, there were no monsters or arseholes, there was just Geralt and Jaskier. </p><p>Until tonight, when there wasn’t. </p><p>He’d noticed the moment she walked in, halfway through his set. Being the professional he was, he pushed down the nausea that churned in his gut. He turned, singing louder, anything to avoid looking at the way Geralt’s eyes zeroed in on the witch. </p><p>Yennefer of <i> fucking </i> Vengerberg. Jaskier didn’t know how it had started, only that somewhere between choking on his own blood and getting a dagger to the balls, Geralt had met the insane sexy witch. And then ran into a collapsing building for her, then screwing her in the ruins. An apt metaphor, truly. </p><p>Jaskier expected that to be the last of it, one and done, they would be on their merry way and it would be back to the three of them- just two best friends and their horse. </p><p>Except… Yennefer stayed. And then she left, and she <i> ruined </i> Geralt. Jaskier could see how Geralt wanted to ask her to stay, could see how Yennefer would laugh him off if he tried. They’d been running into her on and off for years, and every time it would be a whirlwind of bickering and lust until she’d whisk away again and leave Geralt standing in the dust. </p><p>And yet… here they were, once a-fucking-gain. </p><p>Jaskier finished his song with a flourish, bowing deeply and quickly snatching a tankard of ale before heading to the table, where Geralt and Yennefer were already engrossed in conversation. </p><p>He slid on the bench right beside Geralt, stealing the fork out of the other man’s hand and taking a bite of his pie. Geralt didn’t react, Jaskier noticed with a frown, just shoved the plate closer to Jaskier. </p><p>“Ah, I see you’ve found your newest contract,” Jaskier said brightly. “No need to gallivant in the woods, dear Witcher, your monster has come to you!” </p><p>“Bard,” Yennefer replied pleasantly. “A little pitchy, no?” </p><p>Jaskier’s eye twitched. <i> Horrible rotten witch. </i> “Right!” Jaskier exclaimed, standing up. “Absolute pleasure, as always.” He stood, watching Geralt, waiting, surely Geralt would get up with him, as he always did… but Geralt stayed seated, taking a slow sip of ale. Jaskier’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m just going to fetch my pack, head up early, I suppose!” He pretended to not hear Yennefer’s snort as he definitely did not flee from the tavern.  </p><p>He found himself in the stables, staring at the saddle bags in the corner. Grabbing his meant he’d have to go back inside, see the soft smirks that only he used to be able to draw out. He wasn’t ready for that.</p><p>“Hey girl,” Jaskier whispered. Roach flicked her ears at him, which he took as an invitation to stroke her nose. </p><p>“I don’t understand,” Jaskier continued, pressing his face against her neck. “I don’t know what it is about her, Roachie. She’s gorgeous, that’s undeniable, but a fair face hides a foul heart, as it’s been said… What does she have? I’ve spent years, you’ve seen it, years by his side, doing everything for him. I thought it was enough. But he knows her for five minutes and he gives her everything. I’m nothing to him when she’s around. How can I compare to the sun itself, Roach? How does he not see that she will burn him up, and then when it does… well, I’ll be where I always am, by his side, patching him up.” </p><p>Jaskier sighed. No point in dwelling on it, because he knew. He knew he’d never leave, pathetically clinging to whatever scraps of friendship Geralt left him. Above it all, he truly believed they were friends. It was all worth it, the heartache, the long hikes, the freezing mud and occasional beastie claw, it was all worth it because Geralt was his friend. </p><p>Still, Jaskier was tired. Tired of being second best, of not even being acknowledged when he wasn’t the only one in the room. But he was weak for those moments when it was just the two of them and an open road, and truly there was nowhere else he’d rather be. </p><p>He patted Roach once again, offering her a tiny smile. “Yeah. You’ll look with me tonight, won’t you? Just me and you.” He pretended to not know why the starlight slightly blurred. </p><p>He scooped up his pack a while later and headed back into the inn. Geralt and Yennefer were nowhere to be found. Jaskier sauntered over to the innkeeper. “How much for a single room?” That was fine. He didn’t want to be in the same room as whatever the hell they were doing anyways. </p><p>He blinked awake with a groan, flinging his arm to the side and… he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that his arm hit the mattress. He hurriedly buttoned up his doublet and shouldered his lute and his pack. </p><p>Yennefer bought a horse. Both she and Geralt were already seated on their horses by the time Jaskier rushed outside. So she was joining them on this leg of the journey. Lovely. </p><p>Jaskier spent the day trailing behind, not far enough to lose sight, but far enough away to not overhear anything, plucking his lute intently as he walked. Maybe today he’d get that melody that was bothering him down. </p><p>They stopped at nightfall, gathered around a small fire Geralt built up. Jaskier gave up on trying to write after supper, he couldn’t focus with the two of them laughing and <i> cuddling, </i> choosing instead to unpack the bedroll and lie down. </p><p>“See that?” Geralt murmured. Yennefer follows his gaze, looking up past the trees. “That’s The Bride, those stars are her arm reaching out to those stars over there, The Hunter. The story goes, on the day they were to be wed, her father disapproved and sent her away. The Hunter tracked her-”</p><p>Ordinarily, Jaskier would laugh, teasing Geralt about how he was right; it <i> wasn’t </i> some horrible monster as Geralt had said. He’d crow victory and never, ever let his friend live it down. Ordinarily though, talking about the stars wouldn’t make him feel sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t have this horrible sinking feeling, like he was lost at sea and Geralt was just watching him drown. He rolled, burying his face in his bedroll, blinking away the wetness in the corners of his eyes. </p><p>“That’s a ridiculous story,” he heard Yennefer say. “Life doesn’t work that way.” </p><p>Geralt hummed in response, one of his happy hums. Jaskier’s heart twisted. He didn’t sleep well that night. </p><p>She left a few days later, and everything was okay. Geralt was much quieter than usual for about a week afterwards, not responding to any of Jaskier’s attempts to reach out. Which was fine, because Jaskier was patient. Eventually, Geralt stopped searching for creatures to stab and came back to Jaskier, and things were good. </p><p>Things were good, until that damn hunt. </p><p>For the record, Jaskier didn’t think dragons were actually real, until they apparently <i> were, </i> which wasn’t that fucking wonderful! He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see one, not just for the story, he’d given up long ago on going places for the story. No, Jaskier was here for his own curiosity… and Geralt. </p><p>That was the problem, wasn’t it? Always Geralt. He’d been excited to go, one last hunt before trying to get Geralt to take a break. He had a bardic competition coming up near Oxenfurt. Geralt could come with him, and they could go up the coast and spend time by the water. No drowners, no sirens, just the two of them and the open water. They could romp up the mountain, fuck around, possibly see a dragon, easy coin, really. </p><p>Then she walked in, dressed in darkness like a harbinger of death, with another man on her arm. Jaskier couldn’t see this ending well. If they went now, it would be several days of Geralt sulking while she teased out of reach, while he’d be left to the side. No amount of coin was worth that, not for the inevitable hurt that would follow in her wake. </p><p>And of course, Geralt couldn’t say no to her, and Jaskier couldn’t say no to him. Up the mountain they went. </p><p>As suspected, this wasn’t the friendly adventure up the mountain. The most he got from Geralt was a punch in the arm after snarking at Yennefer, which was completely unfair. He didn’t have crow’s feet… hell, maybe he does, he’s getting old. But it was still a low blow. After the unfortunate incident with the hirikka (which he was still sickened by), Jaskier was feeling quite shitty without her unwanted comments. </p><p>“A worthy travel companion”- yeah, he botched that yet again by running away and screaming for Geralt. Geralt had to be joking about Tea and Vea, very droll. Geralt <i> likes </i> him. They’re friends. Best friends. Still, the doubts crept in. 22 years. After 22 years, he still wasn’t Geralt’s priority. </p><p>And then, that damned shortcut. Borch fell, and Geralt was in shock. They all were. This wasn’t supposed to happen. </p><p>Geralt sat on the rock, and Jaskier decided fuck it, if there was ever a time to take a break, it would be now. </p><p>“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow? That is, if you give me another chance to prove myself a worthy travel companion.” A hum. Good, so Geralt’s listening. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he was. “We could head to the coast, get away for a while.” Get away from the stress, the fear, all of it. </p><p>“Do what pleases you,” he almost begged. It was a plea, a plea to look at him, to see him. Instead, Geralt made a quip about his singing. Writing his next song wasn’t important in the long run. It could wait. Didn’t Geralt know? It could wait. </p><p>“Just trying to work out what pleases me.” <i> You. It’s always been you. </i></p><p>On the rock overlooking the cliff, Jaskier handed Geralt his heart once again. </p><p>Geralt stayed silent. <i> Please. Say yes. </i>  This would be good for both of them. All Geralt had to do was agree. Turn around, let the two of them go back to doing as they always did, just the two of them wandering around the Continent. Let them heal, together. </p><p>But Geralt walked away. </p><p>He disappeared into the witch’s tent. Of course, as always, she came first. The stunning, incredibly powerful, sexy mage was the more worthy travel companion. He’d known that the whole time, just had hoped… well, it didn’t matter what he hoped. When Yennefer got sick of him, he’d come back. </p><p>Jaskier lay awake on the cold hard ground, watching the stars. He wrapped his arms around his lute case, the smooth leather doing nothing to keep him warm. He didn’t yet know this would be the last time he’d see the stars near his Witcher. </p><p>On the clearing by the cave where the dragon egg sat, Geralt tossed his heart off the mountain top.</p>
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